


's worth it

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming Out, First Kiss, M/M, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 12:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17100545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: “There’s no knob.” Oliver runs his hands over the entirety of the door, sliding his fingers into the crack between door and wall. Nothing.





	's worth it

**Author's Note:**

> I am pretty sure this was written for a kiss prompt on Tumblr, but I... apparently forgot to record the prompt in Scrivener, I'm sorry!! I finally managed to edit and archive this little ficlet.

“There’s no knob.” Oliver runs his hands over the entirety of the door, sliding his fingers into the crack between door and wall. Nothing.

“Oh, there’s a knob all right,” Marcus mutters. “Won’t stop nattering on. Let the door close so now we’re locked in the fucking equipment room. You’re a right knob, Wood.”

“This is my fault.” Oliver’s voice falls flat. He turns, blinks into the dim light as his eyes adjust. There’s one tiny window, maybe eight feet off the ground, above and behind the shelves. Oliver’s pretty sure it’s too small for him to fit through, which makes it definitely too small for Marcus Fucking Flint.

Marcus leans against the shelves, arms crossed. “Your fault,” he agrees easily. “I said  _hold the door, Wood_  and you had to follow me into the fucking room and let the fucking door go, because you’re a fucking Gryffindor who can’t follow a simple fucking inst--” 

He cuts off when Oliver covers his mouth with his hand, but Oliver’s pretty sure the muffled words that come after are, “Fuck you, Wood.”

It’s what he’d expect Marcus to say.

“I have to ask the obvious question, Flint,” Oliver says slowly. “Why isn’t there a handle on the inside of the door to the equipment room? And why can’t I open it magically?”

Silence.

Oliver removes his hand from Marcus’s mouth. “It’s a question, Flint. Since this is your team’s equipment room, not mine, I’m figuring you have the answer.”

“’S cursed,” Marcus mutters.

“Your equipment room is cursed.”

Marcus grumbles loudly. “’S not my fault. I’m not the one who pissed off that Houghton witch by offering her a tumble in the equipment room but not being willing to be seen with her outside.”

“Because you’re so good with the witches,” Oliver says dryly.

“Not my type,” Marcus mutters. “Anyroad. She cursed the fucking room so if two folks were in it, they couldn’t get out unless--” He cuts off.

Wait.

“What?” Oliver asks, stepping closer.

“It’s just a stupid curse,” Marcus mumbles. “Try a Patronus. Might get out.”

Oliver tries, but the Patronus gets to the door and fizzles at the cracks around and beneath. “No luck.” He leans against the wall, slumps to the ground. “You realize that our teams are facing off against each other, and we’re locked in this room. You want to start talking about the curse?”

“She thought he loved her.”

“So?”

Marcus takes the spot next to Oliver. He takes up so much room, folded up on the floor as he sits, broad where Oliver is lanky. “He brought her in here to fuck,” Marcus says flatly. “So she said if a bloke brought someone in here to fuck, he couldn’t get out unless he loved her.”

“Loved the witch who cursed--”

“Loved the person he brought in to fuck,” Marcus corrects. “She wasn’t exactly thinking about queer wizards.”

“I didn’t want to--” Oliver trails off because it’s a lie. Or not exactly a truth. There was that one time at Hogwarts, and he’s pretty sure that he’s the only one in the league that knows Marcus prefers blokes just because of that. But it was a long time ago.

“May’ve thought about it,” Marcus mutters quietly.

Oliver blinks. “Back in Hogwarts.”

“Today.”

Oliver doesn’t have a quick response to that. While he thinks, Marcus fidgets, twisting his hands together, shoulder bumping up against Oliver’s.

“I wouldn’t be averse,” Oliver says slowly. “To fucking. Again. But probably not right before we take the pitch for a game.”

Marcus snorts. “Yeah, right. You’re not out. Neither am I.”

“Could be, if it’s worth it.” It’s not that Oliver hasn’t thought about it. Being out. Being an example to everyone who thinks queer kids can’t play sports. But there hasn’t been a reason to take that huge step and turn his entire life upside down.

Yet.

Marcus knocks his knee, and Oliver looks over. In the dim light, Marcus’s eyes are huge, pupils dark. Marcus licks his lips, and when he moves it’s swift as he frames Oliver’s face with his big hands. He hesitates a moment, and Oliver could move, but he doesn’t, wondering exactly how this is going to play out.

Marcus’s mouth slides over his, warm and welcome. He’s gentle. Careful, his tongue slipping out to touch Oliver’s lips until Oliver opens up and lets him in. The more space Oliver gives him, the more Marcus takes, pulling him closer, devouring him with careful strokes of his tongue.

The door clicks open behind them.

“’S worth it,” Marcus whispers. And Oliver has to agree.

**Author's Note:**

> I am sometimes (rarely) on Tumblr at [tryslora](http://tryslora.tumblr.com).
> 
> If you like my fic, you would probably also enjoy my original serial fiction at [Welcome to PHU](http://welcometophu.tumblr.com). Come read about queer characters, magic, shapeshifting, college, and a whole lot more!


End file.
